No Day But Today
by Notorious JMG
Summary: Chuck and Sarah find themselves in New York on the day that the Broadway run ends for "Rent". Pure fluff, one-shot.
1. No Day But Today

Chuck Bartowski had always thought it would be fun to visit New York City. He had made plans to go several times – with Bryce, with Jill, with Ellie – but they had always fallen through. Nonetheless, New York had always held this place of mythic wonder in Chuck's mind.

THAT was no longer the case. Not since being deployed on this mission of utter sucktitude. "Team Chuck" had been sent to New York City because the CIA thought that _maybe_ a group of Russian smugglers was trying to bring drugs in through the Port of New York.

And so, Chuck, Casey, and Sarah had spent the last three days watching the docks. That was it. Chuck was itching to go see the sights. He could see everything from the docks – but he didn't actually get to GO to anything.

He grumbled about it all the way back to the Morgan Hotel (he thought the name somewhat amusing), until Casey told him to put a sock in it. Fortunately, Casey had his own room, while Chuck and Sarah were sharing a suite.

"Gotta keep the cover up," Casey had insisted.

Nonetheless, the powers that be had given them permission to take Sunday off – mostly because there were no ships scheduled to come into port from ANYWHERE that the smugglers had connections to. And so, Chuck stood in the shower, letting the tension bleed away, looking forward to a good night's sleep.

That's why when he exited the bathroom in a t-shirt and shorts, he was rather surprised to see Sarah dressed as if she was planning on going somewhere. "Get dressed," she said simply.

Chuck shook his head. "Come on," he complained. "Graham and Beckman told us that we were done for the weekend."

Sarah looked up at him in surprise. "This has nothing to do with the mission," she told him. "Now get dressed."

"Huh?" Chuck asked, confused. "What's going on?"

Sarah just smiled a coy little smile and said nothing. NOW Chuck's curiosity was piqued.

He quickly changed into an Alienware t-shirt, a pair of jeans, and his usual Converse high-tops, and followed Sarah out the door. Down they went, down to the lobby, and out onto Madison Avenue. They turned left at Thirty-Eighth Street, and went west till they reached Broadway.

Sarah clearly knew where she was going, so Chuck simply followed her as she turned right on Broadway. Up Broadway she went to Forty-First Street, where she turned west again. A block later, she stopped.

Chuck looked around. They were in front of a shabby theatre that proclaimed "NEDERLANDER". About twenty people sat on the sidewalk outside.

"We're here!" Sarah announced.

Chuck looked at her in disbelief. "You're kidding. We're going to hang out with some weird-looking people outside a crappy-looking theatre?"

Sarah smiled. "It'll be hundreds of people by the time the sun comes up," she replied.

"Wow," Chuck deadpanned. "EXACTLY what I wanted to do with my time in New York City."

"Chuck Bartowski," Sarah reprimanded him. "Do you have ANY idea what this is about?"

Chuck shrugged. "About me not being in a nice, comfortable king size bed?"

Sarah narrowed her eyes. "This theatre is where the musical _Rent_ has been playing for the last twelve and a half years. Tomorrow is its last show on Broadway, and I'll be DAMNED if it's going to close without me seeing it."

Chuck stepped back and crossed his arms. "Really?" he asked. "Since when are you a musical theatre person?"

The smile returned to Sarah's face. "One of those many things that you didn't know about me, Chuck."

He raised an eyebrow. She had him there – he had just found out something REAL about her with no prompting whatsoever.

Sarah staked out a piece of sidewalk against the side of the building, almost within spitting distance of the box office. "We want to be close to the front of the line, because it seems like those are the lottery tickets that always get chosen," she told Chuck.

His jaw dropped. "WAIT A MINUTE," he objected. "You're telling me we're gonna wait here ALL NIGHT, and we might NOT get in?!"

Sarah smiled weakly. "Yeah…"

"Crap," Chuck groaned. "And what's the likelihood of BOTH of us getting chosen?"

Sarah shook her head. "Don't worry about that," she replied. "Only one of us has to get chosen – you get two tickets."

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Well, THAT makes spending all night on the sidewalk with only the possibility of getting in worth it."

Now Sarah was starting to look hurt. "You know, if that's the attitude you're gonna have, you're welcome to go back to the hotel," she told him. "I will happily see _Rent_ by myself, thank you very much."

Chuck sighed. "I'm sorry," he replied. "I… I guess I can understand how much this means to you – I would do the same thing for certain things at Comic-Con. It's just that this time in New York has been so friggin' frustrating…"

"I know," Sarah said. "But this will be worth it. I promise."

"Okay," Chuck replied. "Now, I am gonna try to get a little bit of shut-eye."

He leaned back against the brick wall of the Nederlander Theatre. It was just about as far from comfortable as he could get. Nonetheless, he was so tired that after a while, he began to doze off –

– Chuck's eyes snapped open. He looked down – Sarah was curled up against his side, his arm around her. Gingerly, he looked at his watch – 1:42 AM. They had been there for three hours.

"Hey," he heard her say softly. "You're awake."

"As, apparently, are you," he replied.

"I never went to sleep," Sarah said. "I figured you'd be pissed if you woke up minus your iPhone."

Chuck's eyebrows shot up. He hadn't even thought about that.

"Hey," Sarah continued. "Since you're awake, would you mind giving me a neck rub? My neck and shoulders are killing me."

"Sure," Chuck agreed. "Just… move wherever you need to."

Sarah maneuvered herself around so that she was sitting between Chuck's legs, practically right up against him. He tried to ignore just how close she was… and he DESPERATELY tried to ignore the fact that her proximity was causing a certain body part to wake up with alacrity.

Chuck took a deep breath, and gently placed his hands on Sarah's shoulders. He squeezed softly – and was taken aback at just how knotted the muscles in her shoulders were.

"Holy crap," he muttered. "You've got enough tension that you'd think you were a spy or something."

"Shhh," Sarah admonished him, but she laughed softly nonetheless. Chuck continued with gentle squeezes and rubbing, trying to work some of the pent-up tension out of Sarah's shoulders. Every so often she would make a little contented noise, which made Chuck smile just a little bit.

After a while, she began to lean back against him, and then Chuck felt her body go limp. Sarah Walker had fallen asleep.

With a sigh, Chuck adjusted himself so that Sarah's head leaned against his shoulder, and then wrapped his arms around her to keep her upright. If she was asleep, he was going to have to stay awake.

After about a half hour, the man sitting next to him gently tapped his shoulder. "Hey, buddy," he said with a thick New Jersey accent. "I'm assumin' that since your girlfriend there's asleep, you're keepin' watch?"

"Yeah," Chuck replied.

"Well, I'm gonna run down the street to the 7-Eleven," Jersey said. "What say I grab you a coffee, you hold my place in line?"

"You got a deal," Chuck answered.

Jersey returned with Chuck's coffee ten minutes later. A very grateful Chuck tried to pay him, but he was waved off, with the guy from New Jersey insisting that holding his place in line was worth way more than a cup of coffee.

Chuck slowly drank the coffee, nursing it to make sure it kept him awake. He finished it just as the edge of the sky was beginning to go from black to grey.

Just after six o'clock, he could feel Sarah beginning to stir. He knew she was awake when she yawned and then quietly said, "Good morning."

He smiled, and loosened his grip on her, letting her move away a little bit. "Good morning to you, too," he replied.

"Have you been up all night?" she asked sleepily.

Chuck nodded. "Had the assistance of a cup of coffee around three o'clock," he said, "but it hasn't been too bad."

"Well, it'll be another couple of hours before they start handing out the lottery tickets," Sarah told him. "If you want to try to sleep a little…"

"Gladly," Chuck replied. Sarah smiled and moved so that she was sitting against the wall, and then indicated that Chuck should lay his head down in her lap – "It'll be softer than the sidewalk," she insisted.

It felt like his eyes had barely closed when Sarah's hand was on his shoulder, shaking him awake. He cracked his eyes, saw the ticket agent in front of him, reached up, took his ticket, and fell promptly back asleep. Again, though, it seemed that no sooner had he done that when she shook him awake again. "They're starting the drawing."

Chuck shook the cobwebs from his head and sat up. "So, how many tickets do they hand out again?" he asked, squinting against the bright morning sunlight.

"Forty," Sarah replied.

"Forty?!" Chuck exclaimed. "There's something like five hundred people here!"

"I know," Sarah said. "Cross your fingers."

And so Chuck did. The tickets started to go, and neither of them got called. Thirty left. Twenty. The guy from Jersey's number was called, and he practically did a jig in the middle of Forty-First Street. Twelve. Ten. Eight. Six. Four. Two.

Sarah looked like she was on the verge of tears. "Hey," Chuck said softly, "it'll be alright."

She shook her head. "I've wanted to see _Rent_ here since it opened," she sniffled, "and today's the last day."

"FIFTY-SEVEN!"

Chuck's eyes widened. "That's me!"

Sarah's jaw dropped, and her visage instantly went from sad to ecstatic as Chuck pulled the ticket from his pocket. He double-checked – yep, he was number 57!

Sarah threw her arms around Chuck's neck. "YES!" she cried.

Chuck just smiled, and extricated himself from her grip, heading toward the box office.

Five minutes later, they had two tickets to see that evening's show. "Now what?" Chuck asked.

"Now we friggin' go back to the hotel and SLEEP," Sarah replied.

* * *

Seven hours later, they were back at the Nederlander Theatre. "I can't BELIEVE these seats!" Chuck exclaimed.

The seats were in the second row, center orchestra. "They always reserve these seats for the lottery tickets," Sarah replied. "This is where the real rentheads sit."

"The what?"

"Rentheads," Sarah said with a smile. "People obsessed with _Rent_."

"Oh dear God," Chuck groaned. "You're telling me that I'm going to be surrounded by people singing poorly and off-key along with the songs."

Sarah's smile got even bigger. "And I'm going to be the loudest one of all."

For a few minutes, Chuck was concerned, especially as people sang along with what the Playbill proclaimed was "Tune-Up #1." However, just as he was about to lose hope, the opening riff from the show's theme song, "Rent", crashed into his eardrums.

Chuck's eyes flew open, and he realized that he wasn't going to hear ANY of the people around him – not with the band that loud!

As the show progressed, Chuck got more and more into it. He had never seen _Rent_ – just snippets of the movie version when Ellie had rented it a couple of years before. But the more he watched, the more he realized just how great it was.

By the end of the show, Chuck was hooked. In fact, it was completely subconscious when during the final song, he found himself belting out, "NO DAY BUT TODAY!" just as loud as Sarah.

With it being the final show, the standing ovation lasted a solid fifteen minutes, prompting the cast to do an impromptu encore of "Seasons of Love". Chuck felt like his face was going to split from the huge smile across it.

Finally, the show ended, and the lights went down for the last time. With a feeling of nostalgia that was decidedly odd, seeing as how Chuck had never given the show a second thought until twenty-four hours before, he and Sarah left the theatre.

As they exited onto Broadway, Sarah turned left. "Let's go to Times Square!"

Chuck looked at her. "Uh… do you think that's a good plan?"

She smiled and tugged at his hand. "Come on, Chuck, no day but today!"

Times Square was less than a block from the theatre. Chuck looked around in awe – he was FINALLY in the center of it all. He took several pictures of Sarah with his iPhone, and then they kept walking – and they kept going north, further and further away from the hotel.

When they reached Columbus Circle, Chuck froze. "Wait a second…" he said. "That's Central Park!"

Sarah smiled. "So it is, Chuck. You want to go in?"

Chuck shrugged. "Why not."

The park was dark, and few people were there, as late at night as it was. But the full moon and the lights of the city illuminated it just enough to set a perfect mood as Chuck ever-so-gingerly slipped his hand into Sarah's.

She didn't pull away, as he had been afraid she would – rather, she squeezed his hand and left hers in his. They kept walking, and then Chuck brought them to a stop when they reached the edge of the Pond.

Sarah wasn't sure why Chuck had stopped, and turned toward him – just in time for him to reach his arm behind her back, pull her to him, and kiss her. She froze for a second, and then let herself relax into the kiss, closing her eyes.

It lasted for what seemed like an eternity, but as Chuck's watch would attest, was actually about forty seconds. When they broke apart, Chuck's eyes slowly opened, but Sarah's remained closed.

"Chuck…" Her voice came out as a whisper. "I'm not sure this is a good –"

Chuck cut her off by kissing her again. This time, it lasted quite a bit longer. Finally, when they broke apart again, Chuck leaned forward.

"It might not be a good idea," he whispered into her ear. "But you know what, Sarah Walker?"

He pulled back, and she opened her eyes, looking into his.

Chuck smiled. "No day but today."

* * *

_**Author's note:**_ Rent_ did indeed close after the evening show on Sunday, September 7__th__, 2008, after twelve and a half years at the Nederlander Theatre. Though I did get to see the show when the national tour was in Phoenix six and a half years ago, I do truly regret that I never got to see it at the theatre that Jonathan Larson hand-picked for his last, and greatest, work of theatrical art._


	2. In Memory

A week.

It was a week now that they had been in New York City, with absolutely no progress. Chuck was getting pissed, and to make matters worse, after their kiss in Central Park on Sunday night, he and Sarah had gone back to the hotel, made out for a while, and then fallen asleep.

NOTHING since then. Not a kiss, not a hug, not a hand-hold, not so much as even a secret, special little smile.

Chuck had no idea what had gone wrong. He understood why nothing could appear to be happening when Casey was around, but when they were alone – well, he was starting to get annoyed.

But on this particular morning, he was willing to set all that aside. He had to.

Today was September 11th.

It had been seven years since Bryce came rushing into their dorm room. The instant the door slammed open, Chuck had known that something was wrong. Bryce NEVER interrupted his crack-of-dawn run, not for anything.

Without a word, Bryce had grabbed the remote and turned the television on to CNN – just in time for the two roommates to watch, live, as United Airlines Flight 175 crashed into the south tower of the World Trade Center. They stayed in their dorm room, in shock, for the next hour and a half, watching in horror as the twin towers fell.

The entire Stanford campus had spent the next several weeks living in fear. If there was going to be another terrorist attack, the Bay Area would be the "ideal" location. And then, just when their nerves were calming, Aaron Sorkin had a genius idea for the Golden Gate Bridge to be the target of a failed terrorist attack on "The West Wing".

In the seven years since then, Chuck had come to view it more as a day of remembrance than a day of vengeance. Sure, he wanted the terrorists brought to justice, but he thought that the deaths of 3,000 Americans was a poor excuse for xenophobia and indiscriminate warfare.

Nonetheless, on this morning, he would be going to the World Trade Center site. He had decided that if he was going to be in New York on 9/11, then he was darn sure going to go to the World Trade Center. The powers that be also wanted him in the crowd, because John McCain and Barack Obama would be visiting the site that day, and they wanted Chuck to keep his eyes open for anybody that the Intersect might identify as a potential threat.

Chuck and Sarah were supposed to meet Casey downstairs at 9:00 AM, but much to the NSA agent's surprise, Chuck stepped out of the elevator alone.

"Where's Walker?" Casey growled.

Chuck looked at Casey curiously. He had never seen him dressed in his Class A Air Force uniform before, so Casey appeared almost to be a different person.

"Stomach flu," Chuck replied. "She was in the bathroom most of the night."

Casey rolled his eyes. "So I get to keep an eye on you by myself," he shot back. "Oh, joy."

They headed outside and caught a cab. As they got closer to the World Trade Center, Chuck noticed that Casey was getting more and more somber. He thought about saying something, and was just about to, when Casey spoke up.

"I was in the Pentagon that day," he said quietly. "I was working for the office of the Air Force Chief of Staff at the time. I honestly thought that we were having an earthquake. But then – then I heard the explosion. The lights went out."

He sighed. "We all thought it was the end of the world. We thought that somebody, some rogue nation, had finally gotten their hands on a nuclear bomb, and had detonated it outside."

Casey shook his head, and seemed to be making a concerted effort to not tear up. "None of us ever figured that anybody could be so ruthless as to use a jetliner full of innocent people as a weapon. It just… it went against everything that every single one of us, trained, military officers, everything we believed in."

Chuck sat silently, watching his NSA handler as he reminisced about that day. "Every year, on 9/11, I sit on the edge of my seat for most of the day, expecting the bastards to do something again," Casey said. "And every year, at the end of the day, I thank God that nothing happened."

Chuck nodded, but he couldn't think of anything to say, and so he was silent for the rest of the ride to the World Trade Center.

They spent several hours that morning walking around the site, looking at the many memorials erected against the fence that bordered the enormous pit. Chuck looked at as many faces as he could, but didn't flash on anybody.

Toward early afternoon, a convoy came roaring down the street, lights flashing, sirens blaring. It came to a halt near the construction entrance to the site. Immediately, a number of Secret Service agents disembarked from the vehicles and formed a perimeter.

As soon as the area was secure, agents opened the doors of two Suburbans, and Barack Obama and John McCain climbed out, heading toward the ramp into the site. They were followed by Michael Bloomberg, the mayor of New York City, escorting Cindy McCain.

Chuck and Casey watched from the edge, in silence, as Obama and McCain reached the bottom of the site. They each tossed a rose into the small reflecting pool at the bottom, and then bowed their heads.

Chuck couldn't believe just how silent the crowd around the site had become. He looked around, making sure nobody was up to no good –

And saw her.

"What the hell?" he whispered.

Casey looked up at him, an annoyed look on his face. Chuck pointed, to a spot about five hundred feet away.

Casey narrowed his eyes, and then his face registered surprise. "What the hell is she doing here?" he asked. "I thought she was sick!"

Chuck didn't respond – he just began moving around the edge. He had to move quickly – Obama and McCain were coming out of the pit, and they would reach the point at which their path intersected Chuck's before he did if he wasn't fast.

Chuck speed-walked around the edge. Behind him, he could hear Casey wheezing a little bit – his right knee had been bothering him the last few weeks.

He got past the point of intersection just before the two senators got there. He looked behind him, and watched as they started shaking the hands of police officers and firefighters – and watched in amazement and a little bit of amusement as Barack Obama and John McCain both shook the hand of a uniformed John Casey, who just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

Chuck smiled and pressed onward.

She didn't see him approach. She probably didn't hear him approach. As she gently ran her fingers over the picture taped to the fence in front of her, he didn't even think she knew he was there.

So it came as a bit of a shock when he heard the words, "Brian Fitzgerald O'Toole," come softly from her mouth.

Without even looking, she reached behind her and gently took Chuck's left hand in her right hand, bringing it to her shoulder. "He was born a decade before me," Sarah told him. "He was the oldest of five, and I was the youngest."

Chuck knelt down beside Sarah, gently removing his hand from hers and wrapping his left arm around her back. "I always looked up to him," she said. "I thought he was larger than life. When I was in elementary school, he used to take me joyriding in his Mustang – boy, did that piss Mom off."

She laughed a little bit, and Chuck looked at her. Sarah was smiling, but she had tears in her eyes. "When I was in high school, and did stupid stuff – and I often did – he was always the responsible big brother, the one who would come get his baby sister and make sure she got home okay."

Now the tears were starting to flow down her cheeks. "He had been with the New York Fire Department for five years when I graduated from high school. His whole company insisted that I show up for graduation on the back of a ladder truck."

In spite of her tears, the smile on her face was huge. "It was so incredible, showing up that way. I felt so special, so loved."

Then her smile began to fade. "I never would've imagined that a year and a half later, that same truck would be screaming through the streets of Manhattan on the way to this place."

Sarah turned to look at Chuck for the first time since she had started talking. "He was one of the first firefighters in," she said quietly. "He never…" Her chin began to quiver a little, and her face was now wet with tears. "He never came out."

A great sob worked its way up from Sarah's chest and burst out. Chuck reached his other arm around her and held her against him, whispering, "It's okay," over and over again into her ear, letting her cry herself out.

Finally, she stopped. She sniffled, and wiped her hand across her face. "You… you're the first man that I've ever cared about and trusted as much as Brian."

Chuck's breath froze in his chest. He had no idea what to say. What could he POSSIBLY say after having just been told that Sarah cared about him as much as her big brother, who she seemed to have practically deified?

He chose to go the simple route, and whispered, "Thank you."

Sarah hugged him tight, and then turned back toward the picture of her brother. Reaching out a hand, she brushed her fingertips across the surface of the picture and whispered, "Love you, Brian."

And with that, she stood. Chuck stood with her, and they headed back toward where Casey was talking to the gathered police officers and firefighters. She slipped her hand into his, and squeezed it briefly.

As they walked, she asked, "Do you remember what you said the other night, when you kissed me?"

"Of course," Chuck replied. "I said, 'No day but today'."

Sarah smiled and nodded. "You know, Jonathan Larson wrote that six years before 9/11… but being here just gives that one little four-word phrase so much more meaning."

Chuck looked over at her. "It really does," he agreed quietly.

Sarah stopped, and then embraced Chuck again, hugging him tightly. He put his arms around her back, folding her into his embrace.

"I can hear your heartbeat," she whispered, giggling a little.

"Well… that IS where your ear is," Chuck replied drily.

"Chuck…"

He looked down at her, and she looked up at him. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she seemed to be hesitant –

"I love you."

The words were out of Chuck's mouth before he could stop himself. It seemed so right, so natural – and yet, Sarah looked surprised. Her eyes went wide.

"No day but today, Sarah."

She nodded, and then she smiled. "I know, Chuck."

She broke the embrace, but didn't say anything, instead taking Chuck by the hand again and leading him over to where Casey was waiting for them.

The rest of the day, she didn't mention the incident, although she was now holding Chuck's hand, hugging him, and acting a little more like she had on Sunday night. Finally, after they had gone to bed that night, as Chuck was falling asleep, he heard her roll over to face him.

"Chuck?" she whispered.

"Yeah," he whispered back.

He felt her hand on his face, and he opened his eyes. He turned himself to face her. She reached behind his head and gently pulled him to her, and kissed him.

After a moment, she pulled back. Chuck opened his eyes and looked at her. Sarah smiled.

"I love you too, Chuck."


End file.
